Legacy (30 page)

I remained just long enough to get my shoes on and ask for some simple directions, and then I took him at his word.

Chapter Twelve

I rode Parsons's brown mare nearly a mile through the shadowy forest before the reaction struck. It was only an hour's ride, he had said, until I would reach Father's lumber camp - the one we had visited the day after Justin had left us. At the camp I would find a way back to Grampian. I would get home quickly and speak with Mother, and with Judge Hawthorne, and somehow we would manage to prevent our financial troubles from becoming public knowledge.

I urged the mare forward on the narrow trail, keeping my head down to avoid the low-hanging branches of the maples that grew out here mixed in with the pines. The woods seemed quiet this morning, and chilly, even though the sun was up. In spots here and there, it managed to break through the leaves overhead and light the ground with small patches of brightness. The forest was not gloomy and damp, I told myself. I was going home. I was free. How lucky I had been that Campbell's choice of an accomplice had been Parsons! I had been able to soften his feelings, partly by luck, of course, but also partly by my own refusal to be broken, by my own ability to use my body for what I had to do. Was it wrong, what I had done? I could not think about it now; I could only keep going forward, keep on with what I was forced to do and be thankful, I told myself, that I was not in worse circumstances. I was free now; that was what mattered. I could go home for the first time since . . .

The pain came back to me then in a rush that made me shudder. All that had happened - to Father, to me, to everything I had planned for - was all so wrong! So unfair! My eyes blurred, even as I tried to shake off the feeling and ride on. I could not see. In a haze of tears, my breath now coming in gasps, I managed to bring the mare to a stop. The sobs burst forth from me then as though I were possessed of strange demons, and for a moment I thought that I would surely faint and fall to the ground. My chest heaving, my body wracked with pain, I gripped the saddle horn as tightly as I could, but still I felt myself swaying dangerously, powerless, it seemed, to stay upright. I flung myself forward in the saddle and clutched the mare's neck with both arms. Breathing the warm animal scent, my cheek against its smooth coat, I clung to the horse for what seemed like hours as the hot tears and sobs flooded through me and swept away all else before them.

Finally the storm of my grief seemed to subside and I was able to calmly draw my breath again. Weeping quietly now, I waited, and soon I could open my eyes and clearly see the rocks and the dead brown leaves on the trail beside the new green ferns. The woods were still there, quiet, just as before.

I lightened my hold on the mare's smooth neck and pushed myself upright in the saddle again. Above me were the trees and the morning sun. I felt tired, not nearly so sure of my strength as I had been this morning. And I was frightened, too, at the intensity of what had just come over me so suddenly. Was this what despair was like? Was this what others felt and had to overcome? Was this something I had escaped up until now due to Father's protectiveness? Well, that did not matter anymore. I was over it now. I had suffered, but I was going to fight back. I would gather my strength again and one day I would see to it that the right punishment fell to Campbell and also to Brad Graybar.

I drew in a deep breath and urged the mare forward. My mind began to clear as I rode, and I was able to see in greater detail what I would have to do. There were the newspapers, of course; the story of Father's death must not be overplayed, for lurid headlines were bound to result in a rush of reservations cancellations. I only hoped that whoever had discovered what had happened had had the good sense to keep his mouth shut until further arrangements could be made. Now, if that man from the Deer Park Hotel - what was his name? - had only arrived in time to take charge . . .

These and other details were arranging themselves in my thoughts when I felt the mare toss her head and snort, as though she scented something up ahead.

I stopped and waited, wondering if I would have to run. And in a moment or two I could see, riding towards me, the blond-haired, broad-shouldered outline of a man. I let out my breath in relief that at least the newcomer was not Campbell. Then, as the rider came closer on the shadowy trail, I recognized Billy Joe Walker.

I called out to him and he spurred his horse forward with a whoop. 'Goddamn! I knew it! I knew it!'

In a moment he was at my side, asking if I was all right and haltingly, almost shyly, offering his sympathy for Father's death. I thanked him. I was well, I said, and wanted to get back to Grampian as quickly as possible. Could he help me?

'That's what I came for, ma'am. Soon as we got the news ya was bein' held, I took off for Parsons's cabin.' He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his blue denims, faded and tight, and he nearly burst the buttons on his red wool shirt with that huge chest. 'Just yesterday mornin' we had a crew out this way, and I saw old Red Campbell come ridin' like a bastard down the trail here. Didn't have no idea what it was, of course, but this mornin' when we got the news I put two and two together and had a pretty strong hunch they was the ones who done it.'

He grinned, his big, friendly blue eyes lighting up with pride that his hunch had been right. 'So I figgered I'd head straight out here and see if ya was here and needed a hand. Didn't even tell the boss that I was comin' - just took off. Ain't even ate breakfast.'

'I know how you feel, Billy Joe. I've scarcely eaten for two days myself.'

His face took on a sudden look of concern and the words came out in a rush. 'They didn't give you nothin' to eat? How'd ya get away? Goddamn, they better have treated ya right. C'mon, then, ya can tell me about it while we ride if ya want. I know a quick way down to the river, just this side of the train depot. We can get ya on a coach and back to town.'

I did not feel much like talking, so we just rode together in silence until the trail took a turn to the right and went uphill. 'That's the way to the camp,' said Billy Joe. 'Here's where we go, though, so let's head down and start to rough it.'

The slope was steep and the soil was damp and treacherously soft with wet leaves and rocks adding to the hazards of our descent. Twice Billy Joe's mount stumbled, and once the mare slipped under me and nearly pitched me forward and out of the saddle completely. My feet came out of the stirrups, but I dug in my knees against the horse's flanks and caught hold of its mane and managed to keep myself from falling.

I was breathing hard when we reached the bottom of the first incline. Ahead of us I could see another sharp descent, this one even steeper than the logging skid I remembered so well from the first camp. The trees grew smaller here, among a number of rotting stumps that bore witness to previous years' work by the logging crews.

'You feelin' all right?' Waiting just to my right, Billy Joe looked at me critically. 'You're lookin' kinda tuckered out.'

'No, I'm fine.' I did feel weak, but there was no point in complaining.'How much further is the river?'

'Why, it's just down there a ways. Can't you see it?'

I strained to look in the direction he had pointed, but I could see only the trees and more mountains and the sky. I blinked my eyes, trying to fight off the wave of dizziness that seemed to have come upon me so slowly that I had not even noticed it. I felt my grip loosening on the reins, knew that I was swaying . . .

Like a flash he had reached out and caught me before I toppled over. I felt his big hand on my shoulder, felt the strength in that arm that supported me. Then the darkness was just too much for me to ignore any longer and I let myself sink down, slowly, almost luxuriously, into unconsciousness.

I woke on a hard wooden bench, still feeling weak but at least able to think clearly. I was inside a shed, the walls of rough boards, freshly whitewashed. In front of me I could see Billy Joe talking with a man who had on a railroad cap. We were at the train depot then. How had he managed to bring me all the way down here?

'Billy Joe,' I said, surprised that my voice came out so clearly.

He turned around instantly and was at my side in two strides. 'You're all right, then,' he said. 'Had me worried there for a while. I was just tryin' to get us a doctor.'

'When does the train come?'

'Looks like there ain't gonna be any train.' He explained that a few miles downriver at a siding there had been an accident. A switch had been left open this morning and an engine had been derailed. The tracks would be blocked until it could be moved.

'Well, I've got to get word back to Grampian. Please send a wire, would you? Send it to Mrs. Sam Rawlings.'

'Wire's down, young lady,' said the attendant, his voice maddeningly placid. 'Boxcar's snapped off two of them poles like they were saplin's. Haven't sent or received nothin' here since eleven o'clock.'

I drew in a deep breath and pushed myself up to a standing position, still leaning heavily on the arm of the bench beside me. 'I really must get back, Billy Joe,' I said. 'I have to get word back, too. There may be considerable money involved. Are the horses outside?'

His blue eyes did nothing to conceal his doubts that I would be able to make the journey. 'I wouldn't let you ride fifty yards considerin' the shape you're in, Miss Catherine. And Grampian's thirty miles. You're just gonna have to . . .' He turned away a moment, his eyes riveted on something outside the window along the river. 'Wait, now, just a minute. I got me an idea.'

He was out the door and then back again in a matter of what seemed only a few moments, just long enough for me to take a pad and pencil from the trainman and write 'Well and coming home - Catherine' on a sheet of paper.

'We're takin' a raft,' he said, his big frame filling the doorway and his expression proud again. 'It's all set. Should make Grampian by sundown.'

I nodded and tore the message off the pad and handed it to the trainman. 'You send that as soon as they've fixed the telegraph,' I said. 'Send it to Mrs. Sam Rawlings in Grampian.'

His eyes widened behind his silver wire spectacles. He looked at my disheveled clothes and hair in obvious perplexity, as though unable to decide whether he could risk not asking me to pay for the message in advance.

'Is there some problem?' I asked, my voice cool. Behind me Billy Joe took a step towards the trainman's desk.

'Why, no, madam. No, no problems, not at all. It'll be sent off just as soon as I have a signal. You can rely on that.'

In a few moments we were on the raft and under way downriver. We moved fairly rapidly, for the river was still high from the late thaw up in the mountains and from the heavy rains of a week before. Billy Joe stood with his long pole towards the front of the raft, which was a small one, only about fifteen feet long, and he kept an eye out for any rocks or debris that might snag us and spin us the wrong way around in the current. I stayed at the back, behind the little shed built in the raft's middle, holding the broad-paddled oar that served as our rudder. When Billy Joe saw the need he would call out, 'Now lean right,' or 'lean left,' and I would lower the oar from its hinged stand where it was attached up close to the handle, down into the water and lean my weight in whatever direction Billy Joe ordered. I had to lean hard, but for some reason I no longer felt tired. Out there on the sunny river I felt warm and safe and relieved that I was at least going back to Grampian as quickly as I could.

Most of the time I rested, just sitting on the straight-backed wooden chair beside the rudder stand, holding the oar lightly to keep the blade up out of the water until it was needed. On either side of me were the steep green slopes of the mountains, these cool forests rising up from the rocky banks of the river. I thought of the wealth represented by the timber in those mountains - it was like gold that was waiting for those with the drive and the will to go in and take it out. Justin had said the supply wouldn't last, but looking at those miles and miles of green forests as they stretched out behind me and in front of me as far upstream and downstream as the eye could see, it was hard to imagine that this endless forest land would ever run low. There were always new trees, little saplings, and as long as we took only the ones large enough to . . .

'Will ya look at that!' called Billy Joe, pointing to the railway on the north bank, where a black locomotive lay derailed and helpless on its side. 'Gonna take all the mules in the county to move that son-of-a-bitch!'